


loneliest light

by casdoms (moffwithhishead)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Cas is under the attack dog spell, Emetophobia, Episode Tag, Episode: s11e01 Out of the Darkness Into the Fire, Flashbacks, Gen, M/M, Panic Attacks, library scene mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 14:21:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5008075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moffwithhishead/pseuds/casdoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Fuck,” Dean croaks out and digs his fingers into his hair, trying to drown out everything that isn’t actually there.</p><p>They’re memories. Flashbacks. </p><p>There’s hands and blood and Cas and <i>fuck</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	loneliest light

**Author's Note:**

> so I know that everybody wants fluff (same) but in canon I can't just - I can't really see dean just immediately taking care of cas. not because he doesn't want to or anything but just because he still hasn't seen him since the library and of course he shows up again, bloody and beaten, in the library. I'd need a minute or a few hours to recover from that, wouldn't you?
> 
>  **warnings:** emetophobia. allusions to PTSD flashbacks. panic attacks. library scene. attack dog spell. spoilers for 11.02. I wrote more Sam than I think I maybe have ever written and that feels like it deserves a warning?
> 
> title from "the beacon" by a fine frenzy.

“Help me.” 

Dean looks over at his brother in disbelief and suddenly his feet are moving without his consent. He’s got his hands under Cas’ arms before he realizes what he’s doing and helps him to his feet. 

Sam finally moves and grabs Cas’ hands once he’s standing, stabilizing him since he’s looking a little shaky. “Cas, what the hell happened?” 

“A lot,” he grunts and stumbles when he’s fully upright, falling forwards. Sam’s able to keep him up with their hands and looks at Dean, concern practically spray painted across his face. 

Whatever had been helping Dean do things before has left the building apparently because he’s frozen in place and he can’t fucking _breathe_. 

He can see that Sam is struggling to keep Cas upright and he’s saying his name but he doesn’t hear it. All he hears is the blood rushing in his ears and the distant echoes of what happened the last time he was in this room. 

“I...” He tries and he’s surprised when his voice doesn’t come.

The room starts to spin at that realization and Dean mumbles something (or at least he thinks he does) and stumbles out of the library. He makes it as far as the hallway leading to the bedrooms before his knees give out.

His body is desperately trying to get rid of what’s stressing him out but there’s nothing left - he already threw up on his drive leaving Jenna’s house. 

He slides down the wall and tucks his knees against his chest, puts his head in between his knees. 

This is supposed to help, right? It’s supposed to make it easier to breathe?

“Fuck,” Dean croaks out and digs his fingers into his hair, trying to drown out everything that isn’t actually there.

They’re memories. Flashbacks. 

There’s hands and blood and Cas and _fuck._

Dean scrambles to his feet and barely makes it to the bathroom before throwing up. Apparently there was something left in his stomach. 

* * *

 

Sam finds him there what feels like hours later, dry heaving into the toilet. 

“Jesus Christ, Dean,” he mumbles and runs a hand through his hair. He stands there for a moment, surveying the scene before sitting down on the tub across from Dean. 

Awkwardly, he reaches over and pats his brother’s back in a way that he hopes is soothing but he pulls his hand away when Dean flinches. 

Okay. So, no talking then.

Sam clears his throat and looks at the sinks on the wall across the room, “Cas is set up in one of the spare rooms. I cleaned what hadn’t healed all the way and I managed to talk him out of staying in the dungeon but he’s...” 

Briefly, he wonders if he should lie. Maybe sugarcoat it a little.

“He’s pretty messed up, Dean.” 

Okay, so, his brain is not game for the sugarcoating. Interesting. 

“Great,” Dean groans into the toilet bowl, his voice sounding _awful_. “Awesome.”

Sam rolls his eyes a little bit, his foot bouncing absently in the silence that’s only filled by Dean’s ragged breathing. 

“Are we gonna talk about this?” Sam blurts out after a minute.

Dean doesn’t react for about thirty, forty seconds, before he manages to push himself backwards so he plops down on the ground. He winces as he straightens out his knees, keeping his eyes on Sam’s shoe, “Talk about what?”

“ ** _Dean_**.” 

His brother groans and rubs a hand over his face, “I’m -” He freezes for a minute, his hand falling onto his chest while he tries to think.

“I’m fine.” 

“No, you’re an idiot.” Sam glares a little bit, equal parts annoyed at the lie and hurt that Dean won’t tell him what’s wrong. 

Dean snorts at that but he has no reply otherwise, just sighs again and looks at the ground. 

“It’s...” He starts and stops a few times, his fists clenching in his lap in frustration. It’s a lot of things. It’s so many things, and none of them are good, but he doesn’t know how to explain it without sounding like an idiot. 

An anguished noise echoes in the bathroom and it’s not until he feels Sam’s hand on his shoulder that he realizes, oh, that was him. 

Dean’s practically fucking hyperventilating again and Sam’s face screws up in confusion and concern, “Hey, Dean, it’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it, okay?” 

Dean’s trying to breathe normally, trying very hard not to do this in front of his brother. He hasn’t done this in front of Sam in _years_ \- decades, maybe. 

Sam looks lost for a minute and stares up at the ceiling for lack of anything else to do before sighing, “Okay, let’s... let’s get you to bed, I guess.” 

He’s surprised when Dean lets him pull him off the ground but he doesn’t let it show. He’s even more surprised when Dean doesn’t shrug off Sam’s hand on his shoulder, gently guiding him towards his bedroom.

It takes a few minutes but when Sam pushes open the bedroom door, Dean walks in by himself and sits down on the bed with his head in his hands. 

“Um...” Sam shifts uncomfortably, looking anywhere but his brother, “I’m gonna -” He gestures down the hallway towards his room awkwardly, “If you, you know.” 

Dean lets out an impressively shaky breath but doesn’t respond beyond that so Sam nods and shuts the door behind him.

He walks down to his bedroom door and sighs, standing outside of it for a minute and closing his eyes, “Shit.” 

* * *

 

Dean doesn’t come out of his room in the morning.

It’s not that unusual, really - Sam’s the early riser, likes to get a run in when he can. But today Sam’s standing at the mouth of the hallway, looking at Dean’s door like he’s expecting an explosion. 

Fuck, he’s really worried. 

Castiel clears his throat from somewhere behind Sam and man, he looks like _shit_. “Sam.”

His voice sounds worse than Dean’s did last night and Sam winces as he turns around, “Hey, man. You, uh...” 

Cas told him last night about the curse so no, he’s not doing better. He’s clearly still in pain and he didn’t sleep well because he doesn’t really _sleep_. 

The unasked question hangs in the air awkwardly until Castiel frowns, clearing his throat, “Where’s Dean?” 

“He’s...” Sam starts and trails off again, frowning. He’s not really sure if it’s his place to tell Cas.

Castiel watches his face carefully before his eyes move down the hallway to Dean’s still closed door. It twists into something like concern and anguish before he looks back up at Sam, “Has he been in there since last night?” 

“Yeah,” he admits finally, his shoulders slumping a little. 

That seems to settle something for Cas because before Sam has a chance to blink, he’s walking straight past him and for the door. 

Sam barely manages to get a loose hold on Cas’ wrist, stopping him momentarily, “Whoa, hey, Cas, he was pretty freaked last night. Maybe we give him some space for now?” 

Castiel doesn’t move, doesn’t even bother to turn around. His shoulders look like stone. 

“You’re hurt too, Cas,” he tries this time, softer and hoping it makes his friend stop. “Maybe you need some time to rest too?” 

At that, Castiel’s shoulders slump a little bit and his head drops, hanging guiltily. “I...” His voice sounds uncharacteristically quiet, unsure. “I won’t hurt him, Sam.” 

The admission makes him pause for a moment before scrunching up his face in confusion, “Cas, I know you won’t hurt him.” 

The fact that Cas thinks Sam doesn’t trust him makes his chest ache a little.

“Hey...” He steps around so he’s in front of Cas, “You’re strong, man. I know that this spell is really strong but you -” Sam lets out a breath and meets Cas’ eyes the best he can, “You’re not gonna hurt us. I trust you.” 

“You shouldn’t,” Castiel grumbles and glances at Dean’s door again. 

Sam lets his hands drop to his sides and sighs, resisting the urge to hit something, “Let’s just... Can we just leave Dean alone for right now?” 

If Cas’ face is anything to go by, it makes him as uncomfortable as it does Sam but, hey.

“You -” Sam lets out a breath, “You’re more important right now. I need to do research and Dean’s shit at it anyway.” It’s his attempt at a joke. It falls flat. 

Castiel narrows his eyes at Sam, who’s valiantly trying to not look as uncomfortable as he feels with how red Cas’ eyes are. It’s a solid minute of silence before he drops his head again, his shoulders tensing, “Alright. I suppose you have a point.” 

“Great!” Sam tries for fake cheeriness and he’s pretty sure he fails at it but whatever, it’s fine. 

He sets a hand on Cas’ shoulder, much in the same way he’d done for Dean last night, and directs him back into the library. 

Behind his bedroom door, where he’s been listening this entire time, Dean slides down the length of his door and groans.

“Fuck.” 

* * *

 

Dean makes it out of his room by 2 in the afternoon.

Cas isn’t in the library with Sam and instead of saying anything about him or last night, Dean just grabs his laptop and sits down across from his brother. 

“So... what should I be googling?” 

* * *

 

Sam goes on a food run around 9, leaving Dean alone in the bunker with Cas. 

Presumably he’s been in his room this whole time, asleep or healing or whatever the hell it is he’s gotta do to work off this spell.

Dean still wants to crawl out of his skin thinking about everything and his guilt doubles every time he flinches at a noise, thinking it’s Cas. 

The book in front of him doesn’t have anything about the curse and he’s restless. It takes him ten minutes before he finally pushes himself up and starts pacing in the library.

The bunker always runs hot, a combination of the hoodoo the Men of Letters did and the ancient wiring, but right now, it feels nothing short of stifling. Everything in the room feels like it’s mocking him and it’s getting harder and harder to breathe.

The pile of books is still there and Dean’s thinking about setting them on fire just to get the fucking glaring reminder of what he did out of the way when he hears someone clear their throat behind him. 

He turns around slowly, like he’s expecting that person to be pointing a gun at him. 

But it’s just Cas standing there, looking awful and adorable wrapped in a huge blanket that John swiped from a hospital when Dean was 17 and broke his leg. 

Dean thinks he’d prefer it if it was someone with a gun right now. 

“Dean,” Castiel starts, clearing his throat again with a wince. “Are you alright?”

He might throw up again.

“Um,” Dean tries, his voice fighting him on this whole talking thing. “I -” He licks his lips, grips the fabric of his jeans so tightly his knuckles turn white.

Castiel watches him carefully, reading every reaction, every muscle twitch. 

“I...” He starts off, frowning increasing, “I can leave, if you want.” 

Yeah, he’s definitely going to throw up.

“NO.” Dean blurts it out so suddenly and so loudly that it makes both him and Cas flinch with it. 

He blushes a little and looks away immediately, hoping the curse is dampening some of Cas’ angelic senses and he can’t hear how much Dean’s heart is hammering in his chest. 

“I mean...” Dean opens his mouth a little and tries again, “...Don’t?” 

Castiel watches him again, giving nothing away. 

And _jesus_ , it’s killing Dean. It’s absolutely killing him. 

He wants to grab him and pull him into the tightest hug on the planet and protect him from all the bad things, Dean included. He wants to apologize so much it hurts. He wants to kiss the cut on Cas’ cheek, he wants to wipe away the blood under his eyes. He wants to find the angels who hurt Cas and tear them apart limb from limb. He wants to tell Cas that Hannah wasn’t his fault. He wants to make this better, he wants to be there for Cas but he _can’t_. 

He doesn’t get to have Cas. Not after that. 

The thought makes his stomach turn but Dean steels himself and eventually manages to say, “Don’t go. You need a place to recoup and Sam...” He lets out a breath and pretends his voice isn’t shaking, “Sammy and me, we - we can help. We can figure this out.” 

Castiel thinks this over for a few minutes, looking down at the floor in front of him. It’s the first time this whole conversation that he’s looked away from Dean.

“What...” Cas’ voice is so quiet that it makes Dean’s chest ache. “What if you can’t?” 

He hears himself say, “We will,” before he makes the decision to actually say it.

Castiel’s eyes snap up to meet his and he looks nothing short of bewildered. 

Dean meets his gaze steadily, more steadily than he feels, and swallows, ignoring the way his heart is hammering in his chest.

“Let me save you this time, Cas.”  

There’s nothing more terrifying than baring your soul in front of someone that means the world to you and being met with silence. 

Castiel takes his time before looking away and murmuring, “Dean...” 

“Don’t,” Dean pleads quietly, his voice betraying him. He sounds terrified. 

“Please, just...” He swallows and gestures his hands for lack of anything better to do, letting them fall back against his thighs with a smack. “Okay?” 

“Dean,” Cas starts again, apparently determined. “You don’t -” 

Dean moves across the room in the blink of an eye and he starts to reach up to grab Cas’ shoulder but stops, his hand hanging awkwardly in the air as he stares at it in horror. 

Castiel steps closer, his eyes roaming over Dean’s face, “You don’t have to apologize to me, you know.” 

Dean swallows back an anguished laugh and chokes out, “Yeah, yeah I do.” 

His hand drops back to his side again, fingers flexing for something to hold onto. “You deserve at least that much.” 

The front door opens and Dean turns around immediately, walking back towards his laptop and away from Cas, away from this conversation. 

“We’re gonna find a way to fix this,” Dean murmurs, knowing Cas can hear him.

 _I don’t deserve you_ , he doesn’t say. _But I’m not giving up on you_.

 

* * *

 

 

_Your memory is my broken fist._   
_Your memory is the knife in_   
_my pocket, the match that burned_   
_the couch that I found you on._

_I will never mourn anyone as loudly_   
_as I have mourned you._

 -Caitlyn Siehl, [_Resurrect_](http://cuddlydeans.tumblr.com/post/130694343808/your-anger-was-the-only-one-that-could-shake) 

 


End file.
